


Little Old Kingdom stories

by suspiciousteapot



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: F/M, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciousteapot/pseuds/suspiciousteapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some stories about little moments in the Old Kingdom. Some of the stories are longer, some are more drabble-y.<br/>All ficlets I write for my Imagine the Old Kingdom tumblr (http://imaginetheoldkingdom.tumblr.com) will also be posted here. Send me an ask there if there's an AU/missing scene/headcanon/anything you'd like a little fic for :)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dragon Desk

**Author's Note:**

> This first one is based on Sabriel remembering the study with the dragon legged table in the Abhorsen's house: 
> 
> "The table was one of the few things Sabriel remembered from her childhood visits. "Dragon desk" her father had called it, and she'd wrapped herself around one of those dragon legs, her head not even reaching the underside of the table " - Sabriel p.88

Dinner finished, Terciel stands, his mind on the recent reports of a strange Free Magic creature near the small seaside town of Callibe.  
Something brushes past his legs and he looks down to see the small form of his daughter running past him towards the stairs.

“Sabriel! Where do you think you’re going?”

She skids to a stop and turns, eyes wide.

“To the dragons!”

He knew it was a mistake to show her the dragon desk in the study. Between that table, the secret passages and the sendings, he would never be able to get Sabriel to go to sleep.

He sighs. Let her tire herself out a bit in the study. At least there he could keep an eye on her.

“Alright. Just for a short while. You need to go to bed soon.”

Her face immediately brightens.  
“Alright!”  
She darts backs off, clambering up the stairs as quickly as her small legs will allow.

He follows her through to the study where she is running around the soft carpet, ostensibly pretending to be a dragon.

A sending enters through the door at the other end of the room.

“Hello shimmery helper friend!” Sabriel calls out happily. “I’m a dragon!”

The sending cocks its head to one side before swiftly going to retrieve a large book from the shelf. Sabriel goes over, curious. The sending kneels down and hands her the book. She gasps and turns to him.

“Father look! The shimmery helper friend gave me a dragon book!”

Indeed, the book did seem to be a large volume on the history of dragons.

“What do we say to people who help us?” he prompts.

“THANK YOU!” she yells to the startled sending. She races to a large chair and props the book up against the back, kneeling in front on the chair to read it. Or, at least, try to read it, but mostly look at the pictures. Though he often showed her letters he received calling him away to battle the dead, she was only four, and could only read little snippets.

She turns ”Will you read it to me?” she asks hopefully.

“Sorry love,” he replies sadly, “I have to read up about a creature that’s been hurting people.”

She nods and quickly turns back to her book. A jolt of sorrow shoots through him. Though he hated it when she cried, he was saddened to think that she had accepted that he was, and ever would be, at best an infrequent parent. Although at least he was with her, as he would not be this time next year, he reflected. He hoped she would like the school he had chosen for her. It was close enough to the Old Kingdom that she would learn Charter Magic, but away from the dangers that she knew nothing about, those that lurked in their home country. Besides, he rationalized further, the Clayr had told him just last month that they had Seen that she would need to know Ancelstierre. He would visit as often as he could and he remembered reading about a spell to make a sending of oneself appear where the sender desired at the full moon… another thing to look up.

Leaving her to her scaly friends, he turned to the sending. 

“Apparently a Free Magic being that mimics a person’s shadow for a day or so before being able to obtain enough of their Life to become corporeal is harming people in a nearby village. Have you heard of this before?”  
The sending swiftly returns to the bookshelves, searching, Terciel going over to sit at the Dragon Desk to await the results of the sending’s search.

…

The book kept Sabriel engaged for a little over an hour. Impressive, as her attention didn’t usually hold for so long a time. It was, however, past the tenth hour. He should be getting her to bed.

Turning to check on her, he notices that her spot by the chair is empty. Frantically he looks around.

“Sabriel?” he calls anxiously.

A small giggle came from under the table. 

He knelt down. He had been so absorbed in his research he had not noticed that she had snuck under the table. She was now wrapped around one of the dragon legs, her head not quite touching the underside of the table.

“When I grow up. I’m going to be a dragon.” She said, with all the serious she could muster.

He nods as though this were a suitable aspiration for a human child, but says

“Ah but love, dragons breathe fire.”

“Me too!” She says, eager to prove that interspecies transfer was within her small grasp.  
Freeing her hands from their hold on the carved dragons’ elaborate horns, she traces the simple mark for fire… and promptly lights his beard on fire.

He yells and jumps back, smacking his head on the underside of the table.

“FATHER!” she screams.

He quickly pats the small fire out with his hands. 

“I’m fine.” He says, perhaps too sharply.

“Sorry.” She whispers, voice laced with guilt and the threat of imminent tears.

He kneels down and sighs, yet again. 

“It’s alright, love. This time. You have to be careful with magic. Using it when you don’t understand it could lead you to hurt others or yourself.”

She bows her head and bites her trembling lip. He pulls her to him.

“Look.” He says simply.

She obediently looks up. He casts a simple spell to heal minor burns, the patch of lightly burnt skin once again becoming pale. He would still have a large bald patch in his beard, but he thought, he might as well just shave it all. He had not done that since before his wife died. Before Sabriel was born.

“Are you healed now?” Sabriel asked timidly, bringing him away from his dark memories and back to the present.  
He smiles.  
“The magic is healing me now.” He answers, “Where did you learn to do that?”

She reddens. “I saw Jame doing it to light the cooking fire.” She said, eyes still on the ground. Jame was one of the travellers they had been voyaging with for since Sabriel’s birth.

“You’re going to need a bit more practice before you start playing with fire,” he says sternly. “I’ll teach you some other marks tomorrow though, alright?”

She smiles, instantly perking up at the idea of learning more of the mysterious marks.

“Yes Father!”

He runs a hand through her hair, dark as his own, as she looks back up at him.  
She throws her little arms around him and he kisses her forehead, Charter Mark glowing briefly.

“Time for dragons to sleep.” 

“No! Dragons don’t need to sleep at night, they’re day sleepers!” She protests, guilt gone and eyes wide, looking devastated as only a small child can when faced with bedtime.

“And I haven’t even gone through a passage or gone to the big library with the shimmery helper friends!”

He scoops her up.

“Nocturnal. Dragons are nocturnal. And stop looking at me like I’ve ruined your world. There are a few shimmery helper friends, also called sendings, in your room that will help you get ready for bed. As for the dragons and the passages, they will still be here tomorrow.”  
She squirms and burrows her head against his shoulder.  
“But that’s so far away!” She exclaims sadly, pulling back to look at him, assesses whether he was really going to make her sleep. Seeing his No Argument Face, she acquiesces, lying her head back on his shoulder.

“Tomorrow I get to explore and learn magic though.” She says grumpily.

He buries his face in her hair and agrees.

“Tomorrow.”


	2. Ellimere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suuuper fluffy little fic about chosing Ellimere's name and just after she was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing and all that.

“I’m going insane! I can’t do anything. I can’t even see my feet!” Sabriel exclaimed in frustration as she almost trips on the small ledge surrounding the bookcases in the palace library for the third time that day.

“I can see your feet,” Touchstone replies, looking over from his papers.

She is not amused. “You are so helpful.”

He closed his book, eyes smiling, and walked over, smiling “I try.”

“I hope you know I blame you for this situation.” She grumbled, throwing herself into a chair, true annoyance giving away to mock grumpiness.

His grin grew “I’m afraid I cannot take full responsibility. I seem to remember that someone else was quite involved in the making of this dilemma.”

She huffed at him. “That’s beside the point.”

He kissed her softly and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders. Sabriel sighed as she closed her eyes, frown disappearing. 

“We should figure out a name.” She said after a few minutes.

“Hmm?” He asks absent-mindedly.

“For her. Now that we know it… she… is a her, we can pick a name.” she explains, placing a hand over her swollen womb.  
They had just received a message from the Clayr yesterday sending them congratulations and informing them that their daughter would be born a week early. Typically, they had been intent on one piece of information and had not considered the fact that there were in fact two pieces of news in their letter.

His hands slowed. He had thought about this for some time last night and after a while, his mind had hit on a name. The right name, he thought.

He pulled up a chair and sat down, taking Sabriel’s hand. She was looking out the window, brow creased in thought.

“How about Ellimere?” He proposed, eyes intent on her face, gauging her reaction.

She looked at him sharply, her eyes quickly refocusing and going wide, as though she’d been slapped.

“You told me much about her.” He continued softly, “She was a compassionate, smart, brave, creative person. She is a person our daughter would look up to.”

Sabriel didn’t answer but her face softened as she considered it. Her eyes were glassy, bright with tears. 

She gave his hand a tight squeeze and nodded.

“Yes.” She said huskily.

He stood and cupped her face in his hand.

“Sabriel.”

She stood too and wrapped her arms around him. They embraced tightly.

When their hug loosened, Touchstone saw that she was smiling at him. A soft smile that brimmed with joy at everything she felt for him, their unborn daughter and the friend that had been her sister in all but blood.  
He smiled back and kissed her happily.

Then he kneeled and put his hands and forehead on her rounded midsection.

“Hello Small One.” He said, employing their nickname for the un-named baby. “Are you awake?”

He waited, eyes closed, until he felt a kick. The he grinned and kissed Sabriel’s belly.

“We have a name for you.” He informed her, voice falsely serious.

“How do you like Ellimere?” He asked, just as the baby kicked his forehead.

He looked up at Sabriel, eyes wide. 

“She likes it.”

She grinned, barely containing her laughter.

“How do you know? Maybe that kick meant that she hates it.” She teased.

“Good point,” Touchstone said, frowning, maintaining his façade of sincerity.

He placed his forehead on her belly again and closed his eyes, as if by doing so, he could sense the child’s reaction more clearly.

“Kick once for ‘That’s just the right name for me’ and twice for ‘No, you fools, that’s not me at all.’ ” He specified.

This time Sabriel could not hold back her laughter.

…

Sabriel touched her forehead to that of the little creature and breathed in her warm, new smell. The baby, Ellimere, squirmed and made a soft noise, nuzzling closer to her mother. She had abandoned her squalling and now just seemed slightly perplexed by the outside world.

Touchstone sat half behind his wife, one arm around her. He stroked his daughter’s little red cheek with his other hand, reeling at the fact that this was their child. She had seemed almost unreal before, but here she was, this perfect little being that was staring up at them with her large dark eyes, so like her mother’s. 

His vision blurred and he let the tears fall, soundlessly. He cradled Ellimere’s head in his hand. Sabriel kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. There was nothing that needed to be said. He buried his face in her hair, which smelled of sweat from her recent ordeal and of lemons. 

The world does not exist outside of this small, perfect bubble that contains him, his wife and his new little girl, he thought. Not truly.


	3. Never Doubt It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From AWildeRomantic: "Sabriel and Lirael having an oddly (and possibly hilariously) stereotypical sister moment."

For the past week, Nick had avoided her. She had pretended he wasn't at first. She told herself that he was just busy learning all he had to learn about the Old Kingdom, busier that he had been. However, it became undeniable when he almost walked into her, started, and rapidly diverted his path to avoid running into her.

Lirael blushed in embarrassment. _Did I do something wrong? Does he not like me anymore? Stop being silly, you don't even know if he liked you like that in the first place._

Still, he was at least her friend, and she was hurt by his behaviour. That evening at dinner, Nick started towards her, but then he seemed to notice something behind her, and he flushed and quickly turned to sit at the opposite end of the table. Lirael looked around and saw Sabriel looking at Nick cooly. Nick seemed intent on avoiding her gaze and Lirael's, and he barely spoke the whole evening.

_Why did he do that? It's almost as though he's scared of Sabriel._ While it was true that her sister was an intimidating woman, the look was too specific for it to just be that. _She can't have said anything to him can she have? Why would she have?_

Lirael went to bed that night full of questions.

The following morning she resolved to seek Sabriel out and ask her directly.

She found her in her study with her husband. Sabriel and Touchstone sat close together, heads bowed over a document, talking about something to do with Belisaere.

She paused at the doorway

"Um. Hello." Lirael said, so quietly that she almost didn't hear herself. They didn't hear her either.

She took a breath and stepped inside the large room.

"Hello," she tried again, louder this time.

They looked up.

"Lirael. Hello." Sabriel said lightly.

"Hello." Lirael said again, her nerves telling her to run away and pretend nothing was actually wrong.

No. She had promised herself she would not hide anymore. "Could I talk to you?" She asked. Then, because she had not promised herself to be rude, she added "If you aren't very busy."  
Sabriel and Touchstone shared a look that was full of meaning.

"No, I'd love to." Sabriel replied, though she was still looking at Touchstone.

Touchstone seemed very smug about something, and Sabriel seemed slightly irritated, though there was laughter in her eyes.

Touchstone kissed Sabriel on the cheek and rose. "I'll speak to Harmond about the matter." He imformed her, obviously referencing what they'd been speaking about when Lirael had interrupted them.

He nodded at Lirael, smiling, as he rose from his chair. "Lirael." He said in parting. She nodded back at him, wondering what the look he'd shared with her sister had meant.

"Would you like to sit?" Sabriel asked, rising and gesturing to some more comfortable chairs across the room.

Lirael opened her mouth to accept, but her mouth decided not to obey her. "Did you say something to him? Nick." She blurted. 

Sabriel sighed and walked over to her.

"You two are...friendly." Sabriel replied, somewhat defensively. "I know from Sam that he's a nice young man, but I just wanted him to know that should he hurt you in any way, he will regret it. Perhaps I may have been a bit harsh." She paused and looked towards the window. "He may think he is not to go near you."

Lirael was surprised. She instinctively ducked behind her hair to think. She hadn't expected that, and she didn't know what to say. She wanted to run away to her room and think about what this meant. Instead, she just stared at Sabriel, dumbfounded.

Her sister had noticed that she felt something for Nick and felt the need to protect her against possible hurt. She felt strangely happy about it. She felt cared for, like when the Dog had let Lirael hold her when she was sad, but also different in way she could not explain. 

Lirael peaked out at Sabriel from under her hair.

For the first time she had ever seen, Lirael thought Sabriel looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I has not been long since Orranis, and I thought... it might be painful to deal with a relationship." she said carefully when Lirael didn't respond for some time. "I'm sorry if I've upset you or if I was out of line." 

Lireal smiled. "You didn't." She gathered her courage and lifted her eyes to meet her sister's. "I..." She could feel herself blushing. "I'm glad you scared Nick."

Sabriel cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

Lirael quickly backtracked "I don't mean... I mean I'll have to tell him it's alright and sort things out, whatever things are, and I don't really know how to do that but I am happy because you noticed and you worried." She stared intently at the floor. "I'm glad you...cared." 

Though talking to others was much easier now that she wasn't surrounded by people who talked of little else but the Sight, she still sometimes fervently wished she could write things down before she spoke them.

But Sabriel's face broke into a radiant smile. She gently cupped Lirael's face.

"Of course I care about you, sister. Never doubt it."


	4. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from SkySkySkylar: “Lirael and Touchstone talking or doing something or anything really. And/or early days of Touchstone’s rule (probably less of a drabble and more of a super long fic… but maybe you can make it work)”
> 
> Fill for the first prompt: Lirael and Touchstone talking or doing something.

“Left.” Slice. Block.  
“Up.” Jab. Parry.  
“Right.” Cut.

Lirael moved too slowly and Touchstone’s blow caught her on the shoulder. Already off balance, she fell. Her chest felt tight and tears pricked her eyes. She felt like a child. She hated that she was unable to control her frustration and disappointment in herself.

The Dog would surely have nipped her and told her to get back up. But the Dog was not there.

Touchstone knelt down beside her. “Are you alright?”

She closed her eyes and tried to will the tears away.

He said nothing, but she could hear him arrange himself into a seated position beside her as she fought to control her emotions.

Once she’d calmed down, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You’re learning. Don’t apologize for learning.” He smiled fondly, eyes distant, “your sister told me that.”

She didn’t want to think about her sister right now. Her sister who was so good at everything she did; shining in the role she was born to and excellent at the one she married into.

She said nothing. 

Slowly, she felt like she could breathe normally, and the tears were no longer in danger of falling.

“You aren’t used to not being gifted at something.” Touchstone commented bluntly.

She looked up sharply. The words felt like a slap, considering she’d never had the gift she’d wanted since childhood. She felt tears rising again.

“The Sight was only one thing, and something you couldn’t practice. Everything you practiced, you learned quickly. Everything except this.” He continued, guessing at the reason for her reaction.

She felt deflated; her anger leaving her all at once. _He’s right._ She knew she was a talented mage, she knew much and more about Charter spells and magical beasts of all sorts, and she’d even been able to See something her first time as a Remembrancer. Yet she couldn’t land a single blow on anyone. She’d practiced with Sabriel, Sam, Ellimere and now Touchstone, but she still felt useless with a sword. She could not even catch Touchstone when he moved slowly, purposely made mistakes and called out his blows in advance, as he always did with her. She’d seen him sparring with Sabriel, their blows quick, like a dance. In comparison, she moved like a child learning to walk.

“I’ve only ever felt this useless once before. At the thing I was suppose to be born with,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak at full volume.

“For many years, I felt useless whenever I was in Ancelstierre.” Touchstone admitted. “Not matter how much Sabriel told me and I read and observed, I always felt lost there. I didn’t speak as well, I wasn’t as perceptive as I normally was and I made terrible decisions. I frequently felt like an alarmingly stupid fool. It took a long time for me to be able to be even somewhat competent there. I still frequently make stupid mistakes. It’s enormously frustrating.”

She looked at her good-brother in shock. He was the king, him being bad at foreign politics was almost as bad as, well, being a Clayr without the Sight.

“Sabriel’s always been more at home there. She grew up there and knew their customs and politics, so she leads our efforts there,” he continued.

He paused. He cocked his head and looked her searchingly.

“She also had to learn, you know, Sabriel. She knew almost nothing of the Old Kingdom. She knew very little Charter Magic. She didn’t even know that Abhorsen was a title; an office.”

Lirael was shocked. She could not for the life of her imagine her sister being so ignorant.

“But she’s _Sabriel. The Abhorsen._ She’s practically legendary.” She exclaimed in disbelief.

“And you’re Lirael Goldenhand. You think there are no stories about you?”

She hadn’t considered it. She was so used to people not knowing she existed beyond their recognition of her by her unusual appearance.

But now she was curious. “What did Sabriel struggle with?” She asked.

Touchstone thought about it for a moment. 

“Planning, dealing with emotions, both of others and her own, dealing with guilt. More concretely, she struggled with flying a paperwing for quite a while. I was scared to fly with her for years.” His eyes smiled, and she saw something in them she could not quite identify. She had the strangest feeling that she’d heard him speak of this before…

“Everyone struggles with something. Usually with many things.” Touchstone remarked. “And you are getting better. You’re a hard worker, and you’re smart. We’ll all help, and if you keep training, I’m sure one day you’ll be an excellent swordswoman.”

She smiled, bolstered by his confidence in her and the new knowledge that Sabriel and Touchstone also struggled with practices that were crucial to their offices. 

“Thank you.” She said sincerely.

They sat in silence or a while more before Touchstone got up and held out a hand to her.

She took it, though her muscles protested that this would only lead to more bruises and she was perfectly fine on the ground, where she would not be further battered. 

He squeezed her hand gently. “Ready to try again? We could fit in another few rounds before dinner.”

She smiled and realized that not only did she have a sister, a niece and a nephew in this new family, but a brother as well.


	5. A Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From ninthbrightshiner: “Lirael returns to the Library and puts back the statue of the Dog.”

She came back because she knew she had to. This place was full of pain, anger and sorrow, but it had been her home. She noticed idly that she used the past tense to describe it more easily now, a year and a half after Orannis.

It was night. Most of the Clayr were asleep. She had flown all day and arrived some time after nightfall. Sanar and Ryelle had hugged her when she’d arrived and said she was free to stay in her old room in the library, should she want to. She did.

Her room seemed smaller than she remembered it; almost stifling, but perhaps it was just the memories that lined the walls and littered the desk that made it seem that way. At least in this place they were mostly good memories.

She sat down on her bed and slowly opened her pack. She drew out a small, smooth sculpture. 

She studied its canine features for a long while, wondering for the millionth time why she had brought it, and finding the answer hidden deep inside of her, as she had every other time she considered the question.

She had told Sabriel that she had to leave for the Glacier as she had a bound Stilken there, and had to go get it. Once bound in crystal, Stilkens were no real threat, but it would be better to take it out of the Library, where an unsuspecting young librarian might inadvertently unleash it, she had explained. She could see that her sister had guessed the real reason for her journey, but Sabriel had only smiled somewhat sadly and told her that if that was what she felt, she should go bring it back.

The soapstone dog had sat on her desk, watching her pack for her journey.

Once she was done, she had climbed into bed, but been unable to sleep. The Dog’s stone eyes watched her balefully. 

She had sat on the edge of her bed in the castle for a long time, looking at the soapstone statue that didn’t quite capture her friend’s warmth. After a long while, she rose and put it in her pack, closed everything up and slept soundly.

Now the Dog’s statue sat on a different desk, the desk where she’d been summoned. Briefly Lirael had the mad desire to try to summon the Dog again. Her notes on it were still in her desk and surely…

No. She knew that was wrong. Her ankle tingled and she almost smiled at the knowledge that the Dog would be angry with her for even thinking of trying that.

She sighed and went to sleep, knowing what she must do the next day.

The next morning, before the wake up call, Lirael rose and dressed. She put on her old uniform, but slung her bandolier across her chest and belted her sword at her hip. She collected the little crystal bottle from the old yellow waistcoat she had always left hanging on a hook on her door and stowed in in a small, secure pocket in her pack. It had been her first waistcoat, and she had not been able to throw it away.

She checked the mouse in her pocket, mostly out of habit, and headed to the door that was still sealed with Charter magic and wax. Resealed, by someone else, she noticed.

The room with the tree was exactly as it had been a lifetime ago, the pretty flowers and strange sunlight giving the room a feeling of false peace.

The moon door opened to her spell, and she squeezed through it, wondering that she was now able to fit, even with a bandolier. The points of the moon seemed less sharp as well. She moved on.

Soon she stood before the little plinth in the room with the floor of broken crystal that no longer contained a Stilken.

The dust swirled among the faint light of the thousands of ancient Charter marks on the walls.

She looked down at her friend’s face for a long while.

“I miss you. I have other friends and loves, but I still miss you.” She finally told the Dog.

“I asked your for help, and you sacrificed yourself for me. I can’t wish I’d died binding the Destroyer, but in some ways I think I did. I loved you, so you were part of me. I’m different, and that’s not bad, but it’s not easy.”

She felt tears gather in her eyes.

She placed the Dog in the center of the plinth. “I’m moving forward now. I assume you are too, wherever you are.”

The tears fell freely down her face, but she paid them no heed. “I love you, I miss you, and I will always remember you.”

She thought she felt a nudge at her hand. It was the signal the Dog had so often used before when demanding a walk. She smiled through her tears. What better when to honour the Dog’s memory than with a walk?


	6. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For SkySkySkylar: "Sam and Ellimere post-Orannis bonding and/or siblingness."

He stared at the lump of gold alloy in frustration. There was something wrong with the fourth shaping spell, he was sure of it. It was being changed by its interaction with a spell for movement or – 

A light knock at the door interrupted his concentration.

“Who is it?” He inquired angrily.

“Ellimere.”

_Ellimere?_ She rarely came to his workshop, though the anger between them had cooled since Orannis’s binding.

He sighed. “Come in.”

She entered, wearing much the same outfit as she had worn when she last visited him in his workshop, before Orannis. She sat beside him on the bench, facing away from the worktable.

“How are you?” She asked deliberately, her words too careful.

That was strange; it was not like his sister to be awkward.

“I’m fine.” He answered warily, and then for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, he told her about his troubles with the hand for their aunt.

“I’m just frustrated.” He finished, gesturing angrily towards the offending metal.

“Have you thought of trying - ” She began. 

He sighed loudly. Of course she would think she knew better, even in this.

“Sorry, sorry.” She said, holding up her hands in apology. “I know. This is your thing.”

That made him feel somewhat better. It was his thing, just as being Abhorsen-in-Waiting had not been. And yet, he still doubted it sometimes. He doubted it now. He looked over at Ellimere and wondered if she could understand.

“What if this isn’t it either?” He asked quietly.

She frowned and cocked her head slightly, looking exactly as Mother did when she was confused; which was not often.

He continued, “I’ve been working on this for weeks, but I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere.”

“Oh for Shiner’s sake Sam! You’re trying to make a working hand. That you find that monumentally complicated task difficult does not mean you aren’t a Wallmaker! Even the sendings at the House knew what you are.” She exclaimed.

Sam was somewhat taken aback by her fervor and her confidence in him. Yet despite that and her convincing words, he was still somewhat troubled.

“I know, I know. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to bring himself to say it. “I just thought it would be easy, now that I know what I am.”

Ellimere looked at him with surprising tenderness. 

“Sam, did you really think knowing what you were born to do made doing it any easier?” She asked gently.

It was Sam’s turn to frown. “Well it must make it somewhat easier.”

“In some ways, it actually makes it harder. You showed that just now,” she commented. “You get more frustrated, worried and stressed when you do something wrong or when it takes a while to learn or do something because you think you should be perfect. Because you were born to it.”

Sam studied her face. He had never considered that his perfect sister could be stressed or worried. He had been too wrapped up in his own troubling path to notice that her path wasn’t an easy one either.

He realized that he must have contributed to that stress when Mother and Father were in Ancelstierre and he was supposed to be acting as the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. He felt a jolt of shame at how he’d spoken to Ellimere then. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you.” He acquiesced. 

“Don’t mention it. You were stressed. You had to be someone you weren’t.” Ellimere replied genially.

He nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment.

Then Ellimere straightened and Sam sensed that she meant to say something she found difficult.

“I’m sorry too. I messed up. I let you down.” She said, looking away from him.

He frowned. She was annoying as hell, but she rarely made mistakes. And she thought she’d let him down somehow?

She glanced over quickly, and noted his confusion.

She took a deep breath before explaining. “I saw how much the responsibility and the Book scared you. That book made you sick for Shiners’ sake! Yet I chose not to see it. I pretended that you really were studying, and that it was just really hard and I had to give you time to sort it out.”

He realized he wasn’t angry with her, as he would surely have been had she told him before he left to find Nick and all of the rest had happened.

He shook his head. “That wasn’t your fault. Everyone thought I had to do it. I thought I had to do it. If I was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting and I hadn’t done it, the Kingdom would be in deep trouble.”

“Still,” Ellimere continued, “you’re my little brother. I should have asked you what was really wrong.”

He was about to say it was fine, but curiosity changed his reply. “Why didn’t you?”

She hesitated, and then she answered in an even tone, “I was scared.”

“ _You? You_ were _scared?_ ” He said incredulously.

She looked away. “I know I had no right to be, but the winter was so hard and I was scared that if you couldn’t learn what you had to learn…” she didn’t finish that thought, and Sam tried not to dwell on the specific consequences of what might’ve happened if Lirael had never figured out that she was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting.

“You had every right to be scared.” He said quietly.

Ellimere smiled and nudged his shoulder with hers, as they had when they were children.

He grinned back. “Does this mean you won’t boss me around anymore?”

She put on her stern prefect-field-hockey-captain face “Absolutely not.”

He laughed.

“Good. I don’t know what I would do with myself without you telling me what to do.”

She was serious again. “You’d do fine, Sam. You’d really do fine.”

“I’m glad you’re my sister,” he told her.

She laughed. “Well, I guess I’m glad to _be_ your sister.”

“You _guess_?” He asked in a tone of mock offense.

“Well, you _are_ still a stubborn, annoying brat sometimes.”

He nudged her, slightly hard than she’d nudged him.

“Yeah, well you’re still an bossy tyrant.”

She fixed him with a slightly bored expression, like she was tasked with explaining something to a particularly stupid five-year-old. 

“I was born to it.” She said flatly, in a tone that perfectly mimicked Jall Oren’s.

Sam burst into laughter, and after a moment Ellimere joined him. They laughed until they couldn’t breathe, and it was some time before they could regain their composure.

Then Sam turned to face his sister.

“Ellimere?”

“Yes?” She asked, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“You’re going to be an amazing queen.”

She froze and stared at him, and then smiled, almost shyly. “Thank you Sam.”

They still bickered and occasionally hated each other, but in the months and years that followed, it was not unusual to see the siblings seated or walking together, running towards each other’s studies; always discussing one thing or another, always on to the next project.


	7. Strange customs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr post: “Fall asleep on my chest so I can whisper how happy you make me.” + comment by fullyofspookyshapes: “#LIRAEL X NICK#AND SHE’S LIKE#… NICHOLAS I HAVE A PERFECTLY SERVICEABLE PILLOW#AND WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THINGS WHILE I’M SLEEPING#I WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HEAR THEM THEN#NICHOLAS WHY DO YOU SAY THESE CURIOUS THINGS#OH IS THIS ROMANTIC#COME HERE THEN” + prompt by abhors-daenerys (AWildeRomantic): "WRITE IT. RIGHT NOW." = Me writing this ficlet.

As their breathing evened out, Nick pulled Lirael onto his chest and kissed her ear. She turned to kiss him back, before moving to burry her face in her soft pillow, content and drowsy.

Nick shifted beside her and cleared his throat in an embarrassed way, the way he always did when he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin.

She lazily opened her eyes and looked over at him.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing. I…No. Nothing.” He replied, entirely unconvincingly, looking away and flushing a deep red.

Lirael propped herself up on one elbow and raised her other arm to lightly trace her hand along his jaw. She knew he liked the feeling; that he found it comforting and was more likely to tell her what was on his mind when she did it.

He raised his own hand to cover hers, kissed her palm and, true to form, he replied after a moment’s pause.

“I hoped…that you’d stay there.” He mumbled.

“I didn’t move anywhere.” She replied slowly, perplexed by the comment and by his sudden awkwardness.

“With me.” He answered her unasked question quietly, staring fixedly at the space between them.

“I am with you…” She commented, her brow furrowed in confusion.

He flushed an even deeper shade of red.

“On my chest I mean.” He cleared his throat again. “In my arms.”

She still did not understand what he meant, though she could tell it was important to him somehow.

“But I am in your arms when I am not on your chest. You always hold me when we fall asleep together.” She pointed out.

“Well, the point is that…I could be your pillow.” He mumbled, embarrassed. By this point, the vibrant shade that coloured his face had spread down to his chest.

“My pillow? People use other people as pillows in your country?” Lirael inquired.

“Well, yes. One lies on the other’s chest and then, when the person that is on one’s chest is sleeping, one tells them how happy they make you.” He explained, looking away again, his embarrassment evidently not entirely gone. “That’s what I’ve heard, at least. I’ve never actually seen it done.” He looked back at her, and now it was his turn to be confused. “People don’t do that in your country?”

“I…Well, I do not think it is _common_. It seems strange enough to be from your country, though I suppose I would not know.”

He smiled and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “My country is the strange one, is it?”

“Yes.” She brushed her hair back over her ear distractedly. “That is, it certainly has very strange customs and fixations. From what I’ve heard and seen, your culture seems to be full of illogical social customs.”

“Illogical?” He said incredulously.

“Yes! I don’t know how you cannot see it, as you’re the one who always talks about logic. This custom is clearly illogical. If I’m sleeping, then I won’t hear you say that I make you happy.” She reasoned.

He had started to interrupt partway through her comment, but stopped suddenly and considered her, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You do, you know. Make me happy.” He said softly, reaching for her hand and twining his fingers with hers.

Then he frowned again as he thought about the rest of her comment, “and it’s not illogical, it’s meant to be romantic.”

She laughed and kissed him lightly. “I love you too,” she told him, replying to his implicit statement, “and if that is what this custom is about, then I think that your country may have some good customs, even if they are strange.”

He grinned at her; it was the large, slightly idiotic grin that always lit up his face when she told him she loved him and indicated that he hadn’t actually heard anything after that point.

“Well, lie back down then.” She said deliberately.

“Pardon?” He asked, still grinning.

“You can hardly expect to be my pillow if you’re perpendicular to the bed.” She elucidated.

His eyes widened and he hastily lay back down. She laid her head on his chest and he drew his arms up around her and pressed his face into her hair. She listened to his heartbeat, and its steady tempo and his warm embrace soon brought her drowsiness back. Just as she was on the brink of sleep, she heard him begin to whisper all of the ways she made him happy, and she thought that there were sometimes reasons that it was good thing Nick was from Ancelstierre after all.


	8. An Unexpected Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from razzantos on tumblr: “While away putting down the dead, Sabriel realizes she’s pregnant (or is told she is) and has to figure out how to tell Touchstone and what pregnancy means for her duties as an Abhorsen.”

The spring morning was cool. Sabriel enjoyed the smell of the lilacs that had recently come into bloom as she set out to the woods beside the small town of Barden, near Orchyre. She’d been summoned by the town’s elder, Tanel, in a letter asking her for help with a Free Magic Creature that had recently begun plaguing them. She had arrived the previous evening and spent the night in the elder’s house. She spoke with the few people from the town had seen the creature. So far it had only managed to injure a few people, and not very badly, before others had scared it off with torches. She saw to their wounds, drawing out the Free Magic as they told her what they’d seen. They’d managed to see enough for her to ascertain that it was a Quil. Luckily, a Quil was not a particularly high order of Free Magic Creature, and this one did not seem to be under the control of a necromancer. 

She had prepared a staff topped with a thistle wreathed by a few complex spells of destruction before she’d set out. As it was a minor Free Magic Creature, it could be destroyed rather than having to be bound in a glass bottle and stored in the room in the basement of the House.

The nausea hit her moments after she entered the woods. It was not nearly as bad as it had been in the reservoir or when they’d opened Kerrior’s sarcophagus, but it was a lot worse than she would expect from Quil. She put her worries aside and tried to ignore the nausea as she tried to sense where the creature was hiding. Quils did not like the daylight, so it was likely that the creature was hiding in the shadows somewhere, perhaps in a particularly dense part of the forest.

Sabriel cast a spell of discovery, weaving in marks of stunning and confusion. She did not want it to run when the spell found it.

She felt a pull to the right, the spell showing her the way. She followed the spell until the signal became strong enough for her to guess the creature was within a few feet of her. A small voice at the back of her mind noticed that her nausea had not appreciably worsened, though she was much closer to the creature. She paid it no mind.

She loosened the straps holding Saraneth in place and gently removed it, holding it quiet before it could sound. She readied the spell of binding in her mind.

As if it could sense what she was preparing to do, the creature suddenly jumped from the bushes, loping away from her.

She quickly rang Saraneth, and the creature stopped in its tracks. As it fought against the binding, a wave of nausea hit her, and in her shock, her binding slipped enough that the creature managed to break Saraneth’s hold and escape.

Cursing her mistake, she ran after it, preparing a spell of binding as she ran. 

The creature was fast, and managed to loose her several times before she finally cornered it in front of a large outcropping of rock.

Hoping she would not fail as she had earlier, she ran Saraneth once again and spoke the spell of binding.

As she drove the staff into it, it began to spread out like a cloth, until it was so thin that it began to break apart, small fragments no larger than snowflakes drifted gently to the ground, and disappeared.

She sighed and dropped the staff, now only just a stick, the thistle having been consumed in the destruction of the creature.

As she walked back to Barden, she played over the encounter in her mind. She was troubled by how strongly the nausea had affected her. 

By the time she returned to the town, the sun had almost set, and the nausea seemed to have mostly died down. 

Though she felt much better, she remained at the townspeople’s celebration only long enough to thank them for their hospitality and say that she would be leaving come morning, before excusing herself, citing illness.

“Were you injured?” asked Tanel, concerned. “I can send for Jenth.” Jenth was the town healer who had been with them the previous evening. Sabriel had showed him several spells for healing Free Magic wounds.

“I do not think so,” Sabriel replied. _Though if it did somehow injure me without my knowing, it would serve me right for being so clumsy._

“Good thing too, Jenth is seeing to Ash.” Commented a tall, thin man with a kindly red face who had been speaking with some friends nearby. “Ash is my sister, Milady Abhorsen. She’s having a baby.”

_A baby._ The words felt like a slap in the face. She tried to ignore a suspicion that began to grow in her mind. 

Sabriel forced herself to smile, “I am happy for her, and wish her luck.”

She said her goodnights, and headed up the long, narrow flight of stairs to the large room Tanel had insisted she stay in.

_A baby._ She knew from her biology lessons at Wyverly that women often felt ill in the early stages of pregnancy, particularly in the mornings…No. She refused to consider that tonight. What was more likely was that she simply had a mundane illness, a stomach bug. It was not uncommon to fall ill in the spring, with the weather hot one day and cold the next. And yet, sleep did not come easy to Sabriel that night. She could not shut out the small but persistent voice in her head that insisted that she knew exactly why she was ill, and that it was not stomach bug.

…

Sabriel became more certain of her suspicion when the nausea returned the following morning as soon as she awoke, though she still refused to truly believe it. She attempted to pack for the flight home, however she felt so ill that she could barely walk two steps without feeling ill. 

She heard a knock at the door.

“Milady Abhorsen? May I enter?” called Tanel. 

“You may,” replied Sabriel.

“Are you quite alright?” asked Tanel upon entering and seeing Sabriel’s flushed face.

“I’m feeling rather unwell, perhaps just a stomach bug, I’m certain it will soon pass.” Sabriel explained, trying to sound unconcerned.

“You are feeling nauseous?” inquired Tanel.

Sabriel nodded.

“I will send for our healer, Jenth.” Tanel informed her, before turning to leave. Before she left, Sabriel noted that the elder no longer looked worried. In fact, she was almost smiling.

Sabriel frowned at the elder’s reaction to her description of her illness. _I have a stomach bug. That is all this is._

Not ten minutes later, a short young man with light brown hair entered the room, accompanied by a still smiling Tanel, who promptly gave her some slightly bitter-tasting tea.

“It sooths the stomach,” was all she would say by way of explanation.

As Sabriel sipped the tea and described her symptoms once again, Jenth and Tanel shared a knowing look.

“I believe I know why you have been feeling poorly, but if you will permit, I would like to perform an examination, just to be sure.” said Janth shyly.

“As you will,” Sabriel consented.

Jenth cast a few spells over her. Sabriel did not know the spells, but she knew the meaning of most of the marks that they were composed of. They were marks of detection, not so dissimilar from the one she’d used to find the Quil the previous day.

After he had completed his examination, Jenth avoided looking her in the eyes.

“Well, you…you see Milady Abhorsen, the thing is…” he stuttered rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he spoke. “You… well, you’re with child.”

She stared at him, his words not sinking in, though she had all but come to the same conclusion not two hours before.

He fidgeted nervously under her gaze, looking towards the door as though he ardently wished he could run away.

She nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Come Jenth,” said Tanel, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him towards the door, “Let us leave the Abhorsen to her packing.”

But she did not resume her packing. She stood by the window, thinking of what this would mean, for her, Touchstone, and the Kingdom.

_If I’m so clumsy now, before I’ve even started to show, I’ll be even worse in a few months. It will be more risky, and near the end, I won’t even be able to act as an Abhorsen. I will have to take measures to ensure that the people who need my help get aid. Perhaps if I train a group of soldiers, they could deal with Hands and Free Magic Creatures… though without the bells and the ability to walk in Death Shadow Hands and necromancers will have a great advantage… I will have to keep going for as long as possible, though that will be a risk too. If I die because I refuse to stop working, and I trip over my own feet and die, the Abhorsen line will end._

Despite her fears and worries about what this pregnancy would mean for her role as Abhorsen, she felt a small flutter of excitement. _I’m going to be a mother._ The title sounded strange, even in her head. 

And Touchstone! She wondered how he would take it. Being Touchstone, he’d be incredibly worried, especially when she told him she was planning on continuing her duties as Abhorsen until she could no longer see her feet. Yet even his worry would not be as great as his joy, she was sure of it. The thought of his smile brought one to her lips.  
She wondered how she’d tell him. She was torn between the urge to tell him as soon as possible and to wait for a moment, perhaps in the evening once they’d gone to bed… She decided that a moment would likely present itself sooner rather than later.

He would make an excellent father. She thought of her own father, absent throughout most of her childhood, and her smile faded. She would love the child - she already did - but she would have to leave it often, likely for the first time soon after it was born. The thought filled her with sorrow. She would do the best she could to spend time with it, and any other child she and Touchstone would have, but she knew she would miss much of its childhood.   
“I have not been an ideal parent I know. None of us ever are,” he’d told her in the reservoir. She hadn’t considered then that she might suffer the effects of that truth as both a child and an adult. What was more, the child would never lead a normal life, growing up in the Old Kingdom being either her heir or Touchstone’s.

Suddenly, the room felt far too small; her problems and sorrows pressing in on her, and she could not bear the thought of being alone. She wanted to run to the paperwing and fly away from this feeling. She wanted to watch the earth become a patchwork quilt. Her head always felt clearer when she could see the world laid out so neatly beneath her. And she wanted to be with Touchstone. He would not have the answers either, but at least they could figure it out together, and things also felt clearer and brighter in his arms.  
Thanks to the tea Tanel had given her, the nausea had lessened enough that it would be no trouble to fly. She would set out immediately.

With a heavy heart and swirling mind she packed the last of her belongings, thanked Tanel for her hospitality and Jenth for his help, and set off on her flight back to Belisaere, where she would both confront the repercussions of this unexpected pregnancy, and rejoice in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Sabriel would also be somewhat troubled about the fact that (in my headcanon, at least) the child would be born before she and Touchstone were married, and so would technically be a bastard. I didn’t add that here though, because I didn’t think it would be one of her first thoughts, which was what I was going for in this fic.


	9. You're How Old?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touchstone’s age is mentioned and Nick is quite shocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Abhorsen Week #2 Day 4 (Prompt: Unexpected)

The Abhorsen, the King, Lirael, Ellimere, Sam and Nick were eating dinner in the small dining room. Sabriel and Lirael had just returned from dealing with some more Free Magic creatures that had been awoken by Orannis’s rise, and everyone was enjoying being together again. The talk turned to how well the Southerlings had been settling in, partially due to Touchstone’s idea to create classes for them about the history, customs and basic geography of the Old Kingdom.

 

“Marvelous program you thought up,” commented Nick. “If I might ask, how did you know it would help? It’s the first program of its kind I’ve ever heard of.”

 

The King nodded, but declined to accept the praise “It was actually the Queen, my mother, that is, who came up with the idea. She tried several programs and eventually decided that everyone who wanted to become a citizen of the Old Kingdom had to learn about it, so that they would not be so confused by the country. That being said, back then it was the royal scholars who taught them. It was required of their post, but I think having actual schoolteachers run the classes works better. The scholars were smart people, but many of them were not cut out for teaching.”

 

Nick nodded, acknowledging the sensibleness of the program. He would have joined the classes himself, but because the lingering effects of the Destroyer complicated his case, the Abhorsen and the King had decided it would be better if he were to learn from them, Sam, Ellimere and Lirael. Lirael knew the best books for him to read, so naturally she had become his primary tutor when she wasn’t away with Sabriel. He was about to ask a question about the old policy when his mind caught on a peculiar detail of the King’s explanation.

 

“Pardon me,” said Nick, frowning, “but I though the Old Kingdom had not had a monarch for two hundred years.”

 

“Well there was an attempt at a regency that held for quite a while, but they became corrupt quite quickly, so for all intents and purposes, you’re correct.” confirmed the King.

 

“Then I must admit I’m rather confused,” Nick explained. “You said that the Queen came up with the program.”

 

Everyone looked at Sam, as though he was to answer for Nick’s confusion. That only served to confuse Nick further.

 

“Well did you really think I told him about any of this? Sam turned to Ellimere “you can’t say you told your Ancelstierrian friends about…well anything to do with the kingdom, really.”

 

“Naturally I told some of my close friends something about the nature of our kingdom, including its magic, and corrected several misinformed individuals about how we live. And our existence.” She replied primly

 

”But…that…you” Sam sputtered, gesturing exasperatedly at his sister and he searched for a reply, “you could at least show them when they didn’t believe you! There’s not even a _touch_ of the Charter at Somersby!”

 

Nick was perplexed as to what the fuss was about. What was Sam supposed to have told him? Had the regency been restored earlier than he thought? But that didn’t make sense; he had read in a book Lirael had recommended to him that the Interregnum had lasted for 202 years. He was quite sure Lirael would only recommend the most accurate and best-written texts. Granted, he had not yet reached the section about the Interregnum and the modern kingdom, so he could be remembering wrong, but that too seemed improbable.

 

“It makes no matter,” said the Abhorsen, putting an end to the argument. She turned to address Nick “You are corrected in saying it has been centuries since the kingdom had any form of legitimate governance.”

The King and the Abhorsen shared a look at that, and then the King sighed and turned to Nick.

 

“I was the son of the last queen, Queen Eilena, and an unknown northern noble. In Ancelstierrian time, I was born in the year 1688,” he explained.

 

“So he’s 240,” added Sam helpfully.

 

Nick stared at the King for a long moment.

 

“You _how_ old?” He asked incredulously, for once forgetting his manners.

 

Surely that was impossible; nobody could live for that long, could they? _Nobody can live after death either, and yet…_

 

“But…how?” he inquired; completely baffled and desperately hoping they would provide him with a logical explanation.

 

“After the thing that was my half-brother killed our mother and sisters, I berserked. When the Abhorsen of the time found me, he bound me in sleeping spell until he could come up with a plan as to what to do with me. He and several prominent Clayr decided that as the last official member of the royal family I should be kept safe until such time as Kerrigor was defeated. They decided I should be kept somewhere else, somewhere Kerrigor and his minions would not look for me. As Kerrigor feared dying, and because they were confident that he would look for me only among the living, they placed me among the dead. They made a small funerary ship in Holehallow and trapped me in Death, with my body bound to Life as the ship’s figurehead. Ridding the kingdom of Kerrigor took longer than they anticipated, and not long after they hid me, everyone with even a drop of royal blood had been killed. The Clayr made no account of where I was, as they had not Seen me in any futures and were understandably more focused on overcoming Kerrigor and trying to deal with the corruption that was spreading across the kingdom. From what we know from personal journals and the few times the diabolical cat decided to be helpful, the Abhorsen at the time lost his trusting nature after discovering Kerrigor’s treachery and so never wrote down nor spoke of where I was kept, for fear it would land in the wrong hands. And so I persisted as a figurehead as the Kingdom fell into ruin and darkness. Until Sabriel found me, that is.” He smiled at his wife.

 

“Actually,” the Abhorsen corrected him, “the knowledge of where Touchstone was bound was not entirely lost. One of the Clayr who had helped the Abhorsen bind Touchstone did leave a record of his identity and whereabouts when Kerrigor and his minions began to succeeding in killing most of the rest of the bloodline. Only a few Clayr were privy to this information, and as many years passed before the Kingdom was once again stable and free from Kerrigor, the knowledge was almost lost by them as well. However, not long before I crossed the Wall to find my father, a few of the Clayr Saw that Touchstone would be freed. They managed to find the documentation of his identity, location and state, and alerted my father shortly before he left for Belisaere. My father too saw fit to find and free Touchstone only after Kerrigor had been destroyed. Unfortunately, he could not communicate that to me, so when I happened by accident upon a strange man bound in a figurehead in Holehallow, I freed him.” She smiled back at her husband. “I’m rather glad I did, really.”

 

The Abhorsen took the King’s hand, and they smiled at each other for some time until Sam coughed rather dramatically.

 

“So anyway, that is how I know well the state of the Kingdom over 200 years ago.” Touchstone concluded, looking back at Nick.

 

Nick nodded, as though the story made sense. “Trapped in Death. Of course.” He could think of nothing else to say, but neither could he look away from the King. He looked older than 40, perhaps, but certainly not 240. The notion that being trapped in Death and remaining there, untouched by time, for 200 years was one that just a few months ago he would have dismissed as ludicrous. Much had changed, and though he was astounded by story, he realized he had already accepted that it must be true. All the same, he would clearly have to do a lot more reading before he would be able to truly understand even a small fraction of the oddity that was the Old Kingdom.


	10. Charter Knows They Need Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellimere takes it upon herself to play the matchmaker for Lirael and Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt week. Day 4: Dyrim - Ellimere and the Old Kingdom

Ellimere often woke before the rest of her family. She liked to read and watch the city awaken as she drank her coffee before having breakfast with everyone.

Before Orannis, her mother (when she was there) and father often came down first, and Sam, still half asleep, joining them some time later.

Now it was often her aunt who joined her first, habituated as she was to the early waking hour of the Clayr, with Nick coming in soon after.

This was rather interesting, given that for about a week after his return to the Old Kingdom, Nick used to come down around the same time as Sam. What was more interesting, and amusing for that matter, was watching Nick and Lirael try to talk to each other. It was the most disastrous attempt at flirtation Ellimere had ever seen. Today was no different.

“Good morning.” Nick said brightly, startling Lirael, who spilled the boiling water for her tea over her hand. Luckily it was the golden one.

Nick rushed over to help her, managing to bump into at least two chairs on the way. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s -” she held up her hand in explanation.

“Right.”

They both moved to dry the table, recoiling when they accidentally touched hands.

“Sorry,” they apologized simultaneously.

Lirael blushed.

Ellimere was quite glad she had not inherited this trait – she favoured her father in colouring - it revealed one’s feelings far too much. But perhaps it was a good thing for someone like her aunt. Nicholas would likely never be able to guess her feelings for him were it not for the fact that she blushed whenever his name was mentioned or she was talking to him.

Not that they seemed to talk much beyond stammered ‘hello’s and ‘goodbye’s and brief, stilted conversations about the Glacier and Somersby. Even that seemed rare, as Lirael avoided him like the plague and could barely speak to him when they were together. Nicholas was quite the opposite; going out of his way to bump into her. Unfortunately, when they did cross paths, he was just as tongue-tied as she was. You’d think someone raised in the most important political family of Ancelstierre would be a bit more suave. In fact, she’d met him before at one of the Wyverly-Somersby dances, and most of her friends had instantly developed a crush on the charming, handsome young man. It was only around Lirael that he turned into a bumbling idiot. 

All throughout breakfast they cast each other furtive glances, quickly looking away or loosing track of the conversation if they caught each other’s eye.

Ellimere didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes.

Though both were generally fairly graceful and easy to talk to, in each other’s presence they became ridiculously awkward and clumsy. It was sweet, really. But if they did not get over it soon and actually begin to converse like normal people, Ellimere decided she would have to intercede on their behalf. They really would be a good couple; they just needed to get over their nerves and admit they wanted to be.

\--

“Bloody hell!”

Ellimere peeked into the practice room. Nick was sitting down and massaging an elbow, about a meter from a chest he had presumably been attempting to unlock.

 _Excellent._ She hoped her mother and aunt were done with Abhorsen training for the day.

As she expected, her aunt was in her mother’s study, but both were reading so she decided they were likely done with any pressing work. 

“Aunt Lirael, would you help Nicholas? He’s having some difficulty with an unlocking spell.”

Lirael looked up in surprise, eyes wide. “Me? I’m sure you or Sam would be a better teacher.”

Ellimere waved her hand dismissively. “Sam always goes off on tangents that are far too complicated for a beginner, and I’m afraid I must meet with the habourmaster to sort out a conflict. Besides, you’re an excellent teacher. You taught us all about that Hrule in Ancelstierre.”

“I suppose I could try to help,” said Lirael, closing her book and looking over at Sabriel. “Unless there’s anything else we should be doing?” She sounded almost hopeful Sabriel would say no.

Sabriel shook her head. “We’ll get ready to leave for Orchyre after supper. And I think you helping Nicholas would be a fine idea.” 

Ellimere noted that her mother’s mouth twitched into a small smile, and they shared a knowing look.

\--

“How’s the sword fighting going?” Sam asked Lirael at dinner some weeks later. Sabriel had been teaching her for quite a while, with Touchstone and Ellimere occasionally pitching in to help.

“I’m learning.” Lirael replied.  “Slowly.”

“Don’t undercut your accomplishments.” Sabriel said gently. “You’re doing quite well. You just need more practice.”

Nick was learning too, Ellimere knew. She had helped Sam teach him a couple of times. _Another perfect opportunity_.

“As you and Nicholas are both learning to swordfight, perhaps you could to train together,” she proposed.

Touchstone nodded. “I’ve always found practicing with someone at the same level as you to be quite helpful.” She wondered if her father knew why she had suggested it. He was good at playing the fool, but Ellimere thought she caught a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That does sounds like a good idea.” Nick agreed. He looked over at Lirael. “If you’d like, that is. I’m afraid it might be slow going.” He smiled bashfully. “I’ve got a lot to learn.” 

“It sounds like we’re well matched then.” Lirael said quietly, her blush lending more meaning to her words than she’d probably hoped to give them.

Ellimere smiled. _Better and better._

\--

Sam fell into step with Ellimere as she walked to the courtroom.

“Yes?” she acknowledged him. They weren’t on the worst of terms, not since Orannis, but her little brother was still frightfully annoying sometimes, and they didn’t often seek each other out. She supposed she would have to try a bit harder to reconcile with him, but that was a problem for later.

“Cricket.”

“No.” Sam had convinced her to practice various cricket drills with him one summer, and it had proved to be unnecessarily complicated and dreadfully boring.

“Yes.” They entered the courtroom. Few people were there, as the session did not start for another ten minutes. Ellimere liked being early. Sam always teased her about it.

“No. I’m too busy for faffing about.”

Sam scoffed. “Sure. I suppose tennis is actually some kind of work then. Helps the kingdom’s morale or something.”

“Well, it actually does help with sword fighting, so really it’s a kind of practice.”

Sam rolled his eyes and snorted in a most unprincely manner. But then, what did he ever do in a princely manner, really?

“Why don’t you just ask some friends?” That was mean-spirited she knew, and immediately felt quite petty. Sam had alienated all the friends he had in Belisaere when he’d been trying to be the Abhorsen-in-waiting, and was still on shaky grounds with them. 

“I thought we were friends now,” he replied, not missing a beat.

“We are.” She pulled on her judge’s gown.

He looked at her expectantly.

”Oh fine. I’m sorry, that was mean. Anyways, even if I agree, I thought you needed more people for cricket.”

“With Nick and Lirael, we’ll be four, and that’s enough to play a modified version,” he said, leaning against the pulpit.

She sighed. Perhaps if she agreed to his cricket match, he would agree to play tennis with her. It had been some time since she’d played with anyone other than Lirael and her clumsy suitors, and Sam was actually quite good at the sport. Not that she would ever tell him that. A doubles game would really be quite fun... _And it’s the perfect excuse for Lirael and Nick to spend some time together._ In Ellimere’s experience, sports were always a good way of getting more comfortable with someone. That decided the matter.

“Fine. But only if you agree to tennis with Lirael, Nick and I.”

“Great, meet you in the west gardens this afternoon, say about 4 o’clock. Can you tell the others?” He asked, turning to leave. “I have to finish working on something for Tael and I haven’t started.” Typical Sameth.

“Fine. I’ll tell them right after this. And tennis Saturday morning!” she called after him.

He held up a hand in acknowledgment.

Throughout the court session, she found herself looking forward to the afternoon’s match. Provided Sam didn’t get as bossy as he usually was with cricket, it might actually turn out to be fun.

\--

She found Lirael in the palace library, as she knew she would. She and mother had just returned from Orchyre, and Lirael always sought the library’s comfort after she returned from Abhorsen work.

“Aunt Lirael?”

“Yes?” Lirael said, looking up from her book.

“Are you free at four this afternoon and on Saturday?”

“Yes, unless anything comes up. What for?”

“We’re playing cricket tomorrow with Nicholas and Sam, and tennis with them on Saturday.”

“Oh! But I don’t know how to play...”

“Sam will teach us. It’ll be fun.” Ellimere said decisively. “Nicholas’s class will be out in about 10 minutes. Could you tell him the plan? I have to go speak with Jall Oren about a case I tried today.” 

“I…yes, of course…I…I’ll tell him” Lirael stammered.

 _Charter they need help_.

\---

Ellimere wound up and bowled the ball to Lirael. 

It hit her foot and bounced into left field.

“Dead ball!” called Sam.

“How is it dead?” protested Ellimere.

“Because you threw it at her foot!”

“You two always throw it at people’s feet! She was supposed to hit it!” 

“No, you throw it at the ground in _front_ of the batsman or woman. I explained that!”

Sam and Nick had spent about an hour explaining the rules for normal cricket, and then for modified cricket, as it was Lirael’s first time playing and Ellimere hadn’t played since Sam had got her to help him with his drills that one summer. As she’d expected, the rules were ridiculously complicated, and there seemed to be about a million of them. The game itself was far too boring to warrant such nonsense. She almost regretted agreeing to the match.

What was more, though Ellimere had insisted Nick and Lirael be on the same team, Sam said he was the better player, and should be on a team with Lirael because it was her first time playing. Ellimere though a more probable reason was that she was not the only one who had picked up on Nick and Lirael’s feelings for each other.

“It’s fine, really,” said Lirael. ”Let’s just move on.”

The afternoon dragged on, Sam and Ellimere becoming progressively more frustrated with each other.

Sam pitched the ball to Ellimere, and she hit it as hard as possible, her frustration channeled into her swing.

On the upswing, the bat felt strangely light.

“You’ve broken it!” Sam cried out.

Indeed, she was not only holding a splintered stump of wood, the other three quarters of the bat lying several inches in front of her.

“Well clearly you didn’t make it very well.” Ellimere snapped back. He was clearly trying to ruin everything.

\--

Lirael watched Sam and Ellimere argue, unsure of whether or not to intercede. She wondered if she and Sabriel would have been so quarrelsome, had they been closer in age and raised together.

“That’s an end to that then, I suppose.” Nicholas said, joining her by the wicket.

She jumped.

“Sorry!” He apologized, “I seem to be quite adept at startling you.”

“You do have that effect on me.” She blushed. _Great Shiners. Did I just say that?_

Lirael studied the wicket intently. She had found it much easier to talk to people outside the Glacier…except Nicholas. They had talked fairly easily as they’d flown back to Belisaere after she’d saved him from the Hrule, but once they reached gotten there, she’d hadn’t been unable to have a proper conversation with him. Consequently she’d begun to avoid him. Not that she didn’t want to see him, or talk to him. It was just that he made her stomach flutter in an altogether surprising manner, which was rather worrying.  

“I hope tennis goes better.” She said, forcing herself to look back at him.

“Yes! I’ve heard it’s good fun. Not from Sam of course.” He ran his hand through his hair. He had rather nice hair. It was blond and slightly wavy, and part of it always fell in front of his eyes. His eyes were quite beautiful too….

“…before?” Nick asked.

“Pardon?” Lirael stammered. She’d completely missed what he’d said. She quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring.

“Have you ever played tennis before?” Nick asked again.

“I have, a bit. Ellimere’s been teaching me.”

“You’ll have to teach me how it’s done then.” Nick said, smiling.

She smiled back at him. Charter, he had a nice smile.

Sam and Ellimere’s quarrel crescendoed. 

“I suppose I ought to stop them from hurting each other, being their aunt.” Lirael said, looking back at them. _Oh excellent! Remind him you’re his best friend’s aunt._ She let her hair fall in front of her face, embarrassed. Perhaps she should remind herself of that fact. Clearly they were unsuitable for each other. And she didn’t really have feelings for him. He was just good looking, charming, kind, interesting, and he was quite unlike the men that visited at the Glacier. They always assumed she should want them just because they were charming and handsome. Nicholas just seemed to enjoy talking with her… or trying to at any rate.

She quickly walked away to go reconcile her niece and nephew, blushing furiously.

\--

“Hello! Heading down to the tennis match?” Nick called, jogging over to Lirael as she made her way down to the practice room Ellimere had converted into a tennis court.

Lirael waited for him to catch up. “Yes.”

They turned up the stairs that lead to the upper floors. The sun streamed in through the windows, causing Lirael’s hand to shine.

“Sam was saying he made some changes to your hand,” commented Nick.

Lirael nodded. “It was a bit insensitive before. It felt as though I was constantly wearing a glove.”   
  
“And he managed to make it feel like your other hand?”

“Actually I think he may have cast the spells a bit strong. It’s more even more sensitive than a normal hand now.”

“Well done Sam!” Nick pronounced. “I say, would you mind if I took a look at it? I’ve noticed that you can sometimes identify marks in things that have been spelled, and I’m dreadfully curious to see if I know any of the ones in your hand.”

They stopped, and Lirael held out her hand to him. “I don’t mind. I’m sure you could make out some of the marks.”

Nick studied her hand intently. His hands were warm and soft, save for the calluses that were developing from his sword fighting lessons. They made her hand feel strangely tingly. _Sam clearly went wrong somewhere with the spells; hands shouldn’t tingle without reason._ _I’ll have to talk to him about it later._

“Oh I know one of them!” Nick exclaimed. “Well, that is, I know it’s used to hold something together. It’s one of the ones in a spell I’ve just started to learn. I’m not sure of the exact purpose of this spell it’s in though. Looks marvelously complicated.” 

“Most of them are.” Lirael agreed. “Sam devised some rather ingenious spells.”

Nick looked up at her hopefully. “I’d love to hear more about them. Sam tried to explain once, but it didn’t make much sense, particularly since I couldn’t see them.”

“Perhaps later I could try to explain some of them to you,” she offered.

Nick beamed. “That would be terrific! Does this evening suit you?”

“Tomorrow evening after supper would be better.” Though Lirael had realized that she enjoyed the company of others much more than she had in the Glacier, she found that she still need to be alone sometimes, especially after being with people all day. Besides, she wanted to go over an odd passage from _The Book of the Dead_.

Nick nodded decisively, causing his bangs to flop over his eyes rather comically. “Tomorrow evening it is then.”

They continued towards the practice room. Nick was still holding her hand and, to her surprise, she found herself sincerely hoping he did not notice and let go.  

\--

“They’re sweet,” said Ellimere definitively as she gathered the tennis racquets.

“No, it’s strange.” Sam protested.

“They’re barely a year apart.”

“Almost two years,” he corrected her. “And besides, she’s our aunt.”

“So you feel queer about your best friend falling for our aunt and possibly ending up as your uncle.”

“No. No.” Sam said, shaking his head. “That is absolutely not going to happen.”

Ellimere rolled her eyes. “Get over it! Think of someone else for once.”

“That’s just… that’s completely unfair!” Sam spluttered. “This is not me being selfish, it’s - ”

Ellimere cut him off “It’s about you being selfish. Oh by the way, I’m putting them on the same team for tennis.” She disappeared into a storage closet. 

Sam groaned. “No, Ellie, please don’t insist on this.”

She emerged with the net and handed him one end of it. “You agreed I could choose the teams for tennis, so I have.”

“That was before I realized this was part of some plot to get Nick and Lirael together!”

“Them spending more time together is hardly a bad thing. And don’t pretend this is all my doing. They clearly have feelings for each other, even you can see it.”

At that moment, Lirael and Nick walked in. They were holding hands but quickly dropped them as Sam and Ellimere looked over.

Sam harrumphed and kicked a tennis ball across the room.

Ellimere shot him a pointed look. _Don’t screw this up._

\--

Ellimere found Nick on the battlements overlooking the paperwing tower.

She was surprised. He seemed to prefer wandering the city to looking at it from above, as Sam enjoyed. But then, he was also endlessly fascinated with the paperwings.

“Good afternoon.” Ellimere greeted him.

“Hello!” He replied cheerfully.

He gestured to the paperwing attendants on the tower below. “They seem to be setting up that airplane thing Lirael flew me here in. What is it they’re preparing for?”

“Well, Lirael and my mother will fly out for Hafmer tomorrow, and -”

“Lirael’s leaving? Will she be in danger?” Nick interjected. “Not that she and the Abhorsen can’t handle it, of course.” He added quickly.

Ellimere shrugged. “They’re going to Hafmer to stop a petty necromancer who’s raised a small host of Hands. They should be alright.”

“How long will they be gone?” 

“Probably about a month.” Ellimere eyed studied his reaction.

“A month?” He seemed quite dismayed. That was good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they said, but in her experience, a fair amount fondness had to already be present for that to hold true.

“It takes some time to apprehend a necromancer, decide whether he is dangerous enough to have to be sent beyond the Ninth there or can be brought home and rehabilitated, dispatch with any remaining Dead or Free Magic creatures, and help any citizens who require aid.” She looked back at him. “But it is a while to be away from people you care about. I know some correspondence would not be unwelcome.”

“Yes?” He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to do that rather a lot around Lirael, or when talking about her, Ellimere remarked.

“Yes, well, of course I will then. Yes.” He bounced a little, grinning like an idiot. “Absolutely.”

 _Great Stones, they’re adorable._

\-- 

The trumpets sounded Sabriel and Lirael’s return for Hafmer only three weeks later. Ellimere and Touchstone excused themselves from the council meeting to go greet them.

The usual greetings were made, her parents hanging back to greet privately after she and Sam had had a chance to say hello.

“You’re back!” Ellimere turned. Nick practically ran over to Lirael, before remembering himself and stopping short.

He coughed and ran his hand through his hair. “Er…You’re back early…That is, you said you faced some difficulty…I was worried…” he trailed off. 

Lirael smiled. “The difficulty was more easily managed than I feared.”

They stood there, smiling at each other.

“Well that’s all well done and dealt with then,” said Sam loudly.

Nick and Lirael quickly looked away from each other.

“Ah, yes…well, I’ll help you with the packs then?” Nick offered.

Before Sam could shoot that idea down, Ellimere quickly interjected, “That would be quite helpful. Besides, Sam and I have to talk to mother and dad about something.”

Sabriel and Touchstone both nodded earnestly.

“Yes, of course.” Touchstone confirmed.

Sabriel agreed, though she did not conceal her amusement at the situation. “We must speak immediately.”

Sam glared at Ellimere, which she ignored. Thankfully he did not protest, instead choosing to storm away. He would come to terms with it eventually.

They left Lirael and Nick alone with the packs, and as they turned the corner into the stairwell, Ellimere caught Nick kissing Lirael on the cheek out of the corner of her eye.

 _This is going quite well indeed_.

\--

“You’ve succeeded.” Sam said grumpily, throwing himself into an armchair in Ellimere’s study.

“Well yes, at almost everything I do.” Ellimere responded without looking up. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Lirael was hanging out in my workroom, and then Nick came in, pretending he didn’t know she’d be there.”

“Oh?”

“They didn’t stop talking for a whole bloody hour, so I left. They didn’t even notice.”

Ellimere glanced up at him. “Don’t pout. It’s unbecoming.”

He scowled at her, and she felt something like triumph.

\-- 

Ellimere walked onto the balcony overlooking the east gardens. It was fall, and the morning air was deliciously crisp. She often came out here to clear her head before and after meetings.

She heard voices from the gardens below and looked down.

Nick and Lirael were strolling through the gardens, hand in hand.

“You’re saying you can essentially become an animal with magic?”

“Well it’s more like wearing a costume, really. Though it’s quite a good one. You even start craving foods they like if you wear it long enough. Oh, and you also see things the way they see them.”

“That’s fantastic! I would love to see you make one.”

“I’m sure I could teach you, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“You’re a fast learner, and…it would be fun. It would be nice to spend more time with you.”

Nick stopped and Lirael turned to face him. He took her other hand.

“May I?” He asked quietly. 

In response, Lirael leaned forward and kissed him. It was a quick, shy kiss.

Nick brought a hand to her face and kissed her again, Lirael responding in kind.

Ellimere left them to court privately. To think they’d been unable to talk for more than five minutes just a few months ago. She smiled to herself, pleased by what she’d accomplished in barely four months. If only matching Sam with a suitable partner was so easy.


	11. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt on imaginetheoldkingdom from abhorsen-sabriel: "royal family on a roadtrip"

Every year when it was time for Sam and Ellimere to return to school, Sabriel silently cursed whatever powers were responsible for the seasonal difference between the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre. While in Ancelstierre the last heat of summer was being blown away by the crisp breezes of autumn, in the Old Kingdom the early frosts were already beginning to decorate the windows. Sabriel’s busiest season was just starting, and as such, she rarely got to see her children off to school. However this year had by far been the calmest since the beginning of Touchstone’s reign and they had seized upon the uncharacteristic calm to ride at least part of the way to Ancelstierre together, as a family… albeit one with a small entourage of armed soldiers.

The road before them had so far been easy. They were all aware that this lack of trouble was unlikely to last, but none spoke of it, choosing to enjoy the peace rather than spoiling it with fears of the future. More often than not, enjoying the peace included frequent laughter, riddles, stories and, most of all, song.

“On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Ganel - ” Touchstone crooned as they made their way down to High Bridge.

“Dad?” interrupted Ellimere.

“Oh my darling calls out to me. What does she ask, that I may be? ” Touchstone sang by way of reply.

“Silent,” she joked. “Seriously, leave the singing to Mother.”

Touchstone clasped a hand to his breast in mock injury at her words. They all laughed. Touchstone had a fair enough voice, but of the pair of them, Sabriel was decidedly more musically talented.

“Best let him sing Princess else, for want of a tune, I may sing.” Damed warned, a glint in his eye.

Loud, vehement protests from all in the party ensued as Damed opened his mouth to make good on his threat. Damed had been persuaded to sing once several years ago, however the sound that had escaped his lips sounded closer to the noises Mogget made when forced into close proximity with water than an actual human voice.

“Your turn then Ellie.” Sabriel prompted.

Ellimere was more than pleased to take a turn. Like the rest of her family, she loved music and was no poor singer.

“Oh would you like to swing on a star? Carry moonbeams home in a jar?”

Sam groaned dramatically. It was a song that was quite popular in Ancelstierre of late and Ellimere had been humming, whistling and singing it all summer.

In response to her brother’s complaint, Ellimere sang louder.

“And be better off than you are? Or would you rather be a mule?” On the last line, she shot a pointed look at her brother, who glared at her before beginning to loudly sing a folk tune, doing his damnest to drown her out.

“Sing me a song of a lad that is GOOONE.”

“A MULE IS -”

“ – COULD THAT LAD BE IIIII”

For once, Sabriel and Touchstone allowed their children to bicker, enjoying the simple pleasure of being troubled by nothing more than clashing tunes.


	12. Beyond The Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kanafinwhy asked: 24 - Now, let’s unravel your theory completely. (Sabriel and Lirael, post-Abhorsen sister things please? :D)
> 
> Sabriel and Lirael discuss Lirael's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, this time. Hope you enjoy!

“You think she went North, beyond the Great Rift?” Sabriel asked. Her voice held no trepidation, but her eyes seemed to focus on something beyond Lirael, processing this new information and fitting it with whatever she knew of the land beyond her and her husband’s realm. Lirael could practically see her mind searching for any trace of information; any possible dealings anyone from the kingdom - the Clayr in particular - may have had with that land in the past couple of decades.

Lirael nodded, the Dark Mirror’s short clip playing over and over in her mind. It was the only conclusion that made sense, given what she’d seen.

“All I know is that she went beyond the Glacier, and there’s really no place she could survive for long north of that, save in the settlements beyond the Rift.“ Her voice caught on ‘survive’, though she had been trying to keep it steady; to mimic her elder sister’s cool, rational facade. Yet she could not suppress the hope that had come back when she’d glimpsed Arielle in The Mirror a couple of weeks ago - a hope that she’d though had died long ago, when she accepted that she was truly an orphan. The hope that had snuck up and wrapped its warm, heavy arms around her once more as she stood in the cold River, watching the short segment of her mother’s life over and over again, trying to confirm that her face truly did look significantly older that the woman she’d seen at dinner with the Abhorsen Terciel.

“Well.” Sabriel said, in the commanding, down-to-business tone that Lirael had come to find so reassuring, “We must first attend to the trouble up there. It will not be a light task, I think, so we will need our complete focus on resolving it. After that, we will certainly investigate your theory further.”

She gave Lirael a small, sad smile - as though she knew exactly the struggle that so consumed her - and took her in a loose embrace. After a moment, Lirael relaxed into it.

“Whether she lives still, or only in memories, we will do what we can to find your mother. I promise.”


	13. You Did This to Yourself, Sir.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> queensabriel asked: "Have a prompt: Sabriel/Touchstone - #5. You did this to yourself, sir." 
> 
> Some Ellimere & Touchstone moments, some Sabriel/Touchstone moments, and Touchstone's frustration with Ancelstierrian nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (both positive feedback and constructive criticism) are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Ellimere! Is that my sword?”

Ellimere froze, but the momentum of the sword carried it into the wooden and Charter magic practice dummy, her mouth falling open in shock as the soft thunk of the blade answered his question. For a moment she stood stock-still, her soft brown eyes flicking between her father and the sword - which was almost as long as she was tall - quickly calculating her response.

“No harm meant, sir!”

“ _Sir?_ I’m your father, for Charter’s sake! What’s this _sir_ nonsense?” He knew she looked up to him - which was likely why she was practicing by herself in the first place, and with one of his own twin swords to boot - but this was getting out of hand. 

“That’s what Larin said the Ancelstierrians call their fathers. It’s respectful.” Ellimere said proudly, standing up straighter. Etiquette was one of her favourite classes.

“Well, Dad will do just fine for us. We’re not Ancelstierrian, after all, and here sir is for a teacher, or a commanding officer or some such position.” 

Ellimere’s flushed face darkened even further, and she cast her eyes down, immediately loosing the adult-like facade she so often tried to put wear. “Yes, Dad.”

She dislodged the sword and handed it back to him, though she struggled to lift it higher than her waist, and he grabbed it quickly, thanking the Charter she hadn’t hurt herself.

“Sorry, Dad,” she whispered, hugging him tightly before trying to slip past him.

Despite his fear and frustration at her recklessness, Touchstone felt a warm glow of pride. She knew exactly what to do to soften him, to potentially make him forget about punishing her. Every day it was becoming clearer whose line she took after most strongly.

“Ellie,” he called, swooping an arm around her to stop her from hurrying away, “you have time to practice with the guards, you know. With a sword that’s appropriate for your size and capabilities. A responsible, smart swordsperson knows how far to push themself. Even your mother and I would not try to yield what we could not control.”

 _Unless there's no choice,_ he added to himself. _But that’s a lesson for later._

Ellimere frowned. “But Ms. Hilsham says it’s only by pushing yourself past all comfort and knowledge that your learn new things.”

Ancelstierre again. For the thousandth time, Touchstone wondered whether people who knew only safety were the best ones to teach someone whose home country was fraught with danger.

-~.~-

“ _Sir._ For one’s father! And _past all knowledge?_ It’s lunacy!” Touchstone concluded, pacing the carpeted floor of his and Sabriel’s bedchamber. “Complete foolishness! Certainly, you must push yourself, but not past everything you know, and she’s still far too young to understand her limits!”

“I know, Touchstone, we talked about this.” Sabriel countered calmly, but with clear edge of frustration. “I _told_ you Wyverly would teach her some things that would be out of place here, but we agreed that she and Sam need to know Ancelstierre, and that it’s a much safer place for them to be. We knew we’d have to correct some lessons ourselves, and you corrected a couple of them today.”

Touchstone ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I know, I just wish we didn’t have to find out by happening across her doing all manner of dangerous things.”

“You know that scares me too,” she reminded him, taking his hands and lightly running her thumbs across the backs of them to calm him, “but were you not the one who reminded me that children do reckless things when Sam found his way into the blacksmith’s forge?”

“You’re right, of course.” He pressed a light kiss to her lips. “Ancelstierre just gets under my skin.”

She smiled, doubtless recalling - as he was - his great confusion at many aspects of Ancelstierrian life he found bizarre, as well as the variety of social blunders that confusion had led him to commit on their few trips across The Wall.

“Well, I lay this on your shoulders.” Touchstone said teasingly, his anger fading away with Sabriel’s rational words. It was replaced - as it so often was - by the sudden awareness of his wife; the way the soft Charter lights played in her hair, making it shine like a river, and the way her nightdress gently hinted at the curves of her body.

Sabriel scoffed. “You did this to yourself, sir. After all, for all she looks like me, she got your determined personality.”

Touchstone smirked as he wound his arms around her and playfully kissed her neck “I did it to you, actually.”

He barely had time to savour her shock - it wasn’t often that he was so quick with his words - before a pillow caught him squarely in the side of the head.


	14. You Wouldn’t Download A DOG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little modern AU wherein Lirael's a computer nerd and accidentally goes too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post: http://thestoryteller23.tumblr.com/post/149798706777
> 
> Last line is Garth Nix's, from Lirael.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts so drop me a comment below.

Lirael’s eyes burned, her fingers felt numb and distant, as though controlled by something other than her own mind which, at the moment, could barely keep up with them. She no longer knew what she was typing, the string of code seemingly flowing onto the screen from another dimension.

Finally, before she realized it, she was pressing enter. She held her breath, unsure if the glow out of the corner of her eye was the embodiment of her goal, or merely the retinal residue of staring at her computer for longer than was healthy.

Mouvement. The glow had moved! _Holy hells, I’ve actually done it._ She took a deep breath and turned.

The doberman was staring at her thoughtfully, head cocked to one side, dark fur tinged blue by the glow of the hologram projector it sat on. 

_Wait… No. She should be floating above it, and I didn’t program actual fur… did I?_

“Lirael, are you still up?” Her sister’s voice cut through Lirael’s shock. “What’re you doing, locked up in there for -”

The door fell open, as did Sabriel’s mouth when her eyes landed on the all-too-real dog sitting between her and her little sister. 

“What have you done.” Sabriel demanded, just as the Dog cheerily stood up and held out a paw.

“Hello! I am the Disreputable Dog. Or Disreputable Bitch, if you want to get technical. When are we going for a walk?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	15. You have to start kissing someone sometime, I suppose.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion between Sabriel and Lirael, set between the end of Abhorsen and the start of Creature in the Case/Goldenhand.

“Are you fond of him?” Sabriel asked casually as she and Lirael made their way to the paperwing hangar, to deal with the recent reports of a naïve necromancer to the South.

“The… Ellimere’s friend?” Lirael had been hoping nobody would ask further about the handsome, kind man Ellimere had pointedly seated beside her at the festival dinner, who had proved to be Lirael’s polar opposite.

“The young man who looked as though he would fall over if you so much as kissed him. Actually, I imagine just a breath would do.” Sabriel laughed. “But you have to start kissing someone sometime, I suppose.”

Lirael made to hide behind her hair before catching herself. This was her sister, merely being playful as she had seen between sisters amongst the Clayr, and even between Sam and Ellimere on the rare occasions they got along.

“He was quite nice but…” Lirael trailed off, uncertain of how to describe it. It just seemed that all of the young men Ellimere found for her were loud, fast-talking, and interested in completely different things than herself. In fact, it had caused her to wonder on more than one occasion how any Abhorsen ever managed to find a partner. 

“You play for the other team, perhaps?” Sabriel queried.

Lirael screwed up her forehead in confusion, and Sabriel laughed once more.

“I apologise. It’s an old Ancelstierrian expression. It simply means that you are not interested in members of the sex being proposed to you.”

“Oh. No, it’s not that.” Lirael clarified as they started up the winding stairs to the palace roof. They’d not had specific terms or sayings for different pairings as the Glacier, and so far as she knew, nor did the rest of the kingdom. Ancelstierre was indeed an odd place.

“It’s just we don’t quite… fit.”

Sabriel seemed to notice the worry behind her statement, for she laid a gentle hand on her sister's arm as they made their way down the long hall to the hangar.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about. Ellimere is simply an efficient person. She sees this as a task she can help you with. Sometimes that instills a sense of urgency that is nonexistent.” Her face seemed to soften, and Lirael felt that odd feeling of warmth she was beginning to feel more often in Sabriel presence, that made her think of the Abhorsen Queen as a mother figure more than a sister. 

“If a romantic partnership is something you want, then I’m sure you will find it, perhaps even sooner than would be convenient.” Sabriel commented, ruefully thinking of her own somewhat ill-timed first pregnancy.

Lirael smiled, comforted by her words. Yet how Sabriel spoke with such certainty in spite of lacking the Sight was something she thought she would never understand.


End file.
